11:26 a.m. - February 23, 2006
At times, I think I do.
For a while, in the 80’s, I was fairly adroit of predicting the next song on the radio when I put my mind to it. I do recall one night, while driving with Moose that I said, “The next song will be ‘White Wedding’.” And sure enough, it was a nice day for a…white wedding.
I sneered at Moose like only Billy Idol could do, with a rebel yell, and all, and screamed out “Hey little sister, SHOTGUN!”
I think I got whapped in the shoulder after I did that – which isn’t cool when you’re driving on Country Club Road (i.e. the Formula One Test Track) here in C’ville.
(Of course, now realizing the limited playlists of top-40 radio, a monkey could probably predict the next song on the radio, but I digress…)
At some concerts, I also nailed the first song the band played. I did it for R. E. M. (twice – though it was pretty simple. They had a habit of opening with the lead track from their latest album, so “Feeling Gravity’s Pull” and “Finest Worksong” were almost gimmies), the Pretenders, and the big coups was when I said the Smithereens would open with “Blues Before and After”, much to the chagrin of Moose, again.
But, my cold calculating scientific mind knows that those things are pretty well coincidences, or SWAGS. (Scientific Wild-Ass Guesses, for those who need to know the nomenclature.)
As for omens, well, that’s a different thing entirely.
I recall driving home from a job interview in Davenport, Iowa. I had thought I made a pretty reasonable account of myself, and talked to the headhunter who seemed to think there was a good vibe. On the way home, I saw a big rainbow in the BFE-land between Peoria and Bloomington, Illinois. So I was optimistic.
Three days later, I got a call. I was second in line.
Later, I had another job interview, and again, the omens seemed positive on the way home from Canton, Ohio. Good songs on the radio all the way home; and on I-70 I was tucked in behind a car that was doing 80 so I felt I could follow him. It took no time at all to get from Dayton to Indianapolis, which was cool.
Again, a week later, there was a call. They decided not to hire anyone, but I was first on the list if they did. Sigh.
Oh, well, in the long run that all worked out in the end, didn’t it.
But still, it made me think that omens aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
All through my life I’ve been damn lucky, and I admit it, in my employment circumstances.
I got downsized, but it’s a month before I got my MBA, and then a week later land a 10-week consulting gig in Denver. I got back from that gig and a week later started a new job.
That company got bought, and I sensed I was on my way out, but another opening found its way to me, and I was hired.
Then that company was bought and again, I thought I was out, and I wound up here, all happy and healthy.
But the events sounding my job interview here were, shall we say, not optimal and perhaps not a good omen, as omens go.
The interview process here, at the time, was to parade the candidate before at least five or six different stages of interviews, either one-on-one, or a group, and it took about six or seven hours. But I did well.
I think it was because I really do well in interviews. I am confident, verbose, and witty. I know when to speak and when to listen, and no questions can surprise me anymore.
After the interviews, though, was a Jimmy Buffet concert. We were going (as we were child-free at the time) and were going to take a bus with our friends. Since I was already in C’ville I was going to hop on the bus here in town, and Liz was going to meet us in Lebanon (halfway between C’ville and Zionsville, where we lived at the time).
Well, if there’s one thing a Buffet concert involves, it’s drinking. Now I normally stick to beer, and I was feeling no pain after a while, mainly because I was nervous about the interviews. I even said to Liz, in a fit of morose despair, “Man, I must be a loser if my own alma mater won’t hire me.”
So we go to the concert and at the intermission I go and get yet another beer. Well, Liz had thought that I had drunk enough, so we proceed to have an argument, and it’s one for the ages. We spent the entire second half of the concert down by the concession area, having a very animated and pointed discussion.
Well, the bus ride home was silent, and I caught a ride from Liz back to home. The next day, I did my due diligence and sent email thank yous to everyone I spoke with and then Liz drove me back to C’ville to get my car. We had already worked it all out, but still, things weren’t happy in my mind.
I had thought the concert blow up was the omen that said I was NOT going to get this job. Even if the emails I received in return for my thank yous were encouraging.
Needless to say, in about a week, I was blown away when I got the job offer. It took me 4.5 seconds to accept it.
So much for omens.
Just like two days before we were told about Katie, I was at home with a bad back and on goofy pills. (Don’t worry, it’s healed!)
But the day we were told about Kristin (or, that the birth mother was pregnant again) I decided to take the day off for no apparent reason.
Why do I write this? Well, tonight, I have an interview to become the men’s softball league supervisor. It’s a nice gig with a good salary for a summer’s work. The only drawback is that it will cut down on family time, but right now we need to maximize dollars in the door.
The omens, though, are mixed. Our IM team is struggling, and Wabash lost a league playoff game in basketball at home on Tuesday.
But Kristin has achieved some milestones (more tomorrow) and Katie has been, well, Katie, which is enough to make anyone smile!
And, I know exactly what I want to do with this job, and how I can achieve it.
So maybe those are the only omens I need.